Two of a Kind
by GreyAncient
Summary: After falling off a cliff during an arguement with Ash and Misty, Brock wakes up in a strange cabin owned by a kind girl named Marian. As he recovers a romance begins to blossom. However, there is something wrong with this idyllic new life. Has Brock finally found his one true love or is she merely a figment of his own imagination?
1. Chapter 1

**Note: This is the first entry in Lost Stories, where I publish fan fictions that no longer exist anywhere on the internet. It should be noted that none of these were written or altered by me and all their original content is intact, including the author's notes (if there were any). I'm merely publishing them because I consider it a crime that they not be enjoyed by others.**

**This particular fic is entitled _Two of a Kind_. It is a story of love and loss (as you'll soon see). I'm not ashamed to say it's one of the few stories I've ever read that choked me up. It is my sincerest hope that you will enjoy this story as much as I have. Now without further ado, Lost Stories presents...**

**Two of a Kind**

by: Eji

**Chapter One**

"Well I think we oughta get more water pokemon!"

"Yeah, well I think we should get more ground pokemon!"

"What do you know!?"

"More than you, I bet!"

"OOH, ASH! You make me so mad!"

The dispute between the two pokemon trainers was escalating, and Brock could envision the ensuing punch-out. Not wanting to be in the crossfire, he forced himself between Ash and Misty.

"Now calm down you two! Fighting never solves anything, right?"

Misty stopped and looked over at him. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's better just to love everyone, right?" She grinned as Brock felt his face grow hot. In the last town they had traveled through, Brock had made a complete fool of himself swooning over a pretty clerk at the local poke-mart. He could still feel the red marks from the slap.

"Why do you always have to pick on me?!" Brock yelled.

"Well, it's not too difficult," Misty retorted. "After all, you fall in love with almost every girl we come across on our travels!"

Ash looked at him. "It's true. Actually, it's kind of embarrassing for us to be in that kind of situation. You know, the people that usually watch you make a fool out of yourself look at us too!"

Pikachu, who agreed, said a slow "pika pi!"

Brock felt like a train had hit him at over a hundred miles an hour. He had never really thought about how other people felt when he acted that way. But he couldn't help it, because that was just the way he was.

"So… that's what you guys really think of me?" He felt his words come out harshly, and they forced themselves from his dry throat. His face darkened slightly, and he lowered his head, hiding his expression.

Ash and Misty instantly realized that they had gone too far.

"Oh, Brock, I didn't mean it that way," Misty apologized, looking at Ash for help.

"Yeah, we didn't really mean it," Ash said.

"Pika?" Pikachu piped up, looking at Brock worriedly.

"N-no, you're right," Brock murmured, "you're right." A solitary tear streamed down his hidden face. "I've just been keeping it in for so long, that I just couldn't hold it in any longer. I've been a burden to you… to… everybody."

"No you haven't!" Ash and Misty replied.

"Yes, yes I have. I'm no good as a trainer, I can't attract girls, and I embarrass my friends." He looked up at them sharply, his squinty eyes glistening with water. "I don't deserve to travel with you."

With that, he turned around and began packing his things into his large backpack. Ash and Misty frantically rushed to him, to hold him back.

"No Brock! Really! We want you with us!" Ash yelled.

"You can't leave! We're sorry! We want you around, really we do!" Misty gasped.

"No, you two are just pitying me. I can't let you feel sorry for a silly goof like me." He picked up his backpack. "I'm leaving."

Brock turned his back to them and began walking away. They chased him.

"BROCK! Come back!" they yelled. They began catching up to him.

"No, no I have to leave!" Brock said, and he began running, realizing that he was moving too slow.

He felt like he had to leave, to get away. _I'm weighing them down,_ he thought. _I'm the weakest chain in their link. Without me…_ He wheezed, breaking into a full run to escape. Ash and Misty desperately tried to run faster, but Brock's years of looking after his many siblings had put him into supreme physical shape.

He had almost succeeded in getting away when he crossed a small ridge overlooking a deep creek. The land he was running on was brittle, and the ground felt unsteady, but he kept going. He couldn't turn back now. The road was continuing higher and higher up towards a small mountain pass. He breathed heavily as he ran, trying not to hear the fading shouts of the two trainers and Pikachu some distance behind him. All of a sudden, as he passed over a small clump of land, it eroded beneath him, and fell to the creek far below.

"Aaah!" Brock yelled, as his foot slipped on the earth that had slid out from under him. His heavy backpack pushed him downwards as he fell, and his eyes widened in realization. He tripped and began falling towards the creek. The fall would be a long one, and he tightened as he desperately tried to somehow stop himself in mid-air. He fell against the rocks on the steep hill, and the impact struck him hard on his side. He felt the wind being knocked out of him as he tumbled down, and the pain began hitting him from all sides as he rolled.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh! H-help me…" Brock weakly yelled as he saw the images around him becoming fuzzier and darker. He could hear Ash and Misty yelling back, but they sounded so distant, so far away, like they would never make it in time. He closed his eyes and tried grabbing anything around him, but he was moving too fast. Then, without warning, he felt the sharp jolting pain of a large rock hitting his head, and then all went black.

"Brock! Brock! Where are you?" Ash and Misty shouted.

"Pikachu! Pika!" Pikachu yelled at the top of its lungs.

They had heard his faint scream and then nothing at all. Fearful of the worst, they ran until their legs felt like they would fall off, and soon they approached the ridge where Brock had fallen. The dirt around the path was scattered around erratically, but Brock was nowhere to be found.

"Brock! Can you hear us?" Misty called out. She looked at Ash with a look of dread. "This is all our fault! If we hadn't been so mean to him…"

"Let's worry about that later," Ash interrupted, "but now, we've gotta find him!"

They looked around the road, but there wasn't anything there. Ash could hear the roar of the creek's current, and when he looked down at the creek, his eyes grew wide in shock.

"Brock's down there!" he pointed, and Misty glanced down the hill. Brock was sprawled out, lying face down near the creek bed. His backpack lay beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Again, this story is not written or owned by me. All property, intellectual or otherwise, belongs to their respective owners.**

**Chapter Two**

"Hey there, are you alright?" a soft voice called from a distance. Brock could barely move. He was lying on a soft mattress in room where a calm breeze was flowing in from outside. He struggled to open his eyes, and light flooded in from a nearby window, practically blinding him. A figure moved slowly over towards him, but his blurred eyesight prevented him from focusing on the person. He felt a hand reach for his forehead.

"Well, it looks like your fever has finally gone down," a girl's voice said cheerfully. Brock perked up. _A girl? Oh no!_ Instantly, as he realized who had found him, he felt his whole face grow hot. _No, no! Not now! _He tried, but he knew that he was blushing crazily.

"My goodness!" the girl murmured, "It went up again!" Then she stopped and analyzed the situation. "Wait, this isn't like the fever you had before… are you.. blushing?"

"Ah, well…" Brock replied weakly, "I tend to do that from … time to time." He tried again to open his eyes, finally succeeding. He looked up at the girl. She had a kind face, with radiant flowing curls of chestnut-ebony hair and her dark amber brown eyes shone with a quiet glow that gave her a look of serenity. Brock was so overcome by her beauty that he almost fell off the bed, but she caught him at the last moment.

"Y-you're s-so b-b-beautiful!" Brock stammered. He slapped his hand over his mouth. _There I go again!_ he thought, _she's going to smack me for sure!_ He covered his head with his arms, awaiting an attack. But none came.

She giggled. "You're cute," she said, "but why are you hiding? I'd never hurt anyone." He looked up, surprised. _She doesn't hate me? Why?_ "I'm just glad you're ok. For a while there, I was worried, Brock," she said. _Worried? About me? Wait… how does she know my name? _She must have known what he was thinking because she added, "oh, I saw your name on the inside of your backpack." She pointed at his huge backpack lying by the foot of the mattress.

"Oh," Brock replied, look at it. He turned to her. "I really would like to thank you for saving me… uh-"

"Marian," the girl replied happily, "and don't you worry about it. People always come here from time to time in your condition."

"Really?" he asked. "That ridge must not be very secure."

She hesitated. "Ridge? Oh yes, that's it. People… always get hurt there." She cocked her head to the side and smiled. "But I always try to treat them the best that I can."

Brock felt the bandage that was on his head. He felt a twinge of pain and winced.

"You must have hit your head very hard!" Marian said, motioning to the bandage. "But it's nothing that a nice meal and good rest won't cure."

Brock looked at her in wonder. _Wow. She really is something. Never in all my life have I met such a dedicated and kind soul! _He felt his face begin to flush again.

Marian laughed. "That must be your little way of thanking me!" she giggled.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so!" Brock said, scratching his head bashfully.

Just then, he heard a muffled sound, coming from somewhere far away, yet he felt as if it was so close. _Brock…Brock…_It was so garbled that Brock had trouble making it out. He looked around, spooked by the noise, but as soon as it had come, it faded into the forest's silence.

Marian looked at him. "Brock? Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah… I'm fine," Brock replied quietly. Marian appeared unchanged by the noise. _That's strange_, Brock thought. _It's as if she hadn't heard it at all_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Again, this story is not written or owned by me. All property, intellectual or otherwise, belongs to their respective owners.**

**Chapter Three**

In his dream, Brock could see nothing. He felt cold, almost to the point of freezing. He shuddered and tried to look around, but his eyes saw nothing but black. There was darkness all around him, and yet, his other senses were intact. He could feel the presence of people around him, but he could not see them.

He strained his ears to listen, and he heard familiar sounds. It sounded faintly like a young boy's voice, followed by a girl, probably Ash and Misty. He frowned. _But they sound so upset_, he thought to himself. _I wonder why?_ One of them, the girl, Misty, almost sounded like she was crying. _What's going on? _He felt a sense of misery and despair wash over him, but it wasn't coming from him. _Is this what they're feeling? Why do they feel so terrible? WHAT'S GOING ON?! _Frustrated, he tried harder to hear better, but all he could manage to do was listen to the muffled noises.

He sniffed the air, and smelled an artificial, clean smell to the place. He became more aggravated because this dream was not like any other he had experienced. He tried calling out, "Hello! Can anyone hear me?" but his voice echoed throughout the dark space and disappeared without a return. He felt alone, and the loneliness scared him terribly. "Hey! Anyone out there? Please, answer me!" No answer.

The mix of sadness and isolation was more than he could bear. "Let me out of here!" Brock yelled. "I want out of this crazy dream!" He closed his eyes tightly. He emptied his mind of all thoughts, and when he did, one resurfaced. The thought of Marian. _Marian… I want to go back to Marian…_

As soon as he thought that, he felt an intense pain throbbing in his head. He gasped in agony and dropped to his knees. "Aghh…" He held his head, but the pain grew, until, at last, he fell unconscious.

"Brock! Brock!" Marian's voice had brought him back. Or so he thought. He opened his eyes, and saw her looking down at him worriedly. She smiled when she saw that he was okay.

"You looked like you were in agony." She paused. "I've never seen anyone sleep like that before."

Brock sat up and looked around. He felt his head. The only pain that he had came from his bandaged bruise. "Well, I've never had a dream like that before… never." He was silent for a while, and so Marian decided to pipe up.

"Well, while you're awake, why don't I show you around?" She helped him up slowly from the soft mattress, and he looked at the room. A simple room of a one story thatched house, the walls were made of a heavy-duty type of woven plant material, yet they looked sturdy enough to survive a difficult storm. The room was decorated with vases full of exotic, wild-colored flowers that he had never seen before, and the sunlight that flowed out of a large window near the mattress was warm and soft.

For a moment, the pleasantness of the room (and Marian) made him forget the terror of the nightmare. She led him to the doorstep of her little home, and they both took a long look outside. _Incredible_, he thought, _Everything's so wonderful here_. Pidgys were chirping high in the tall, long-leafed trees overhead, there was a light breeze ruffling through the bushes, and the forest itself was very calm and peaceful. He couldn't help but smile.

"It's beautiful, isn't it," Marian murmured. Brock turned and glanced at her. He smiled, blushing only a little this time.

"Well, I guess beautiful things exist in beautiful places," he said. Then, embarrassed, he turned away. Marian laughed softly, and took his hand.

"Ha ha, you do have a way with words," she said, glowing. _Amazing. She really glows_, he thought to himself. Quickly, she yanked his hand playfully and said, "Let's go for a walk! C'mon Brock! It's a beautiful day." She skipped off, and he followed close behind, taking a look back at the scenery and the house. He smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Again, this story is not written or owned by me. All property, intellectual or otherwise, belongs to their respective owners.**

**Chapter Four**

The day was the most wonderful one of Brock's life. As they walked in the cool shade of the tall evergreen forest, they talked about themselves. Brock went first, telling Marian about his many young brothers and sisters and his father who lived in Pewter City. He told her of his pokemon gym back home, where he proudly fought other would-be pokemon trainers with his own rock pokemon. When he mentioned that, Marian perked up.

"Rock pokemon?" she asked, interested. "What kind of rock pokemon do you have?"

"Uh, well, I have GeoDude and Onix," Brock said slowly, pointing to his belt full of pokeballs. Then, in a rare moment of boldness, he piped up and said quickly, "would you like me to show them to you?"

Marian smiled and nodded. "Yes, I'm very curious to see them."

Brock grinned and reached for the first two pokeballs on his belt. He looked at them for a moment. _Yes, they're my best ones_, he thought to himself. _Maybe I'll impress her with them!_

Right as he was about to call them out, a wild Rhydon ran out from underneath some dark underbrush. The large pokemon's gleaming eyes caught the image of Marian and, in a fit of random rage, it reared its large horn and stomped its foot as it burst forward, intent on ramming her. He came out with such speed that Brock couldn't react with his pokemon in time. Brock looked over at Marian, and in that split second, he knew what he had to do.

"Marian! Watch out!" He ran over to her, and tried to jump in front of her, to shield her from the attack. He winced as he awaited the inevitable assault. At that moment, Marian deftly flung her hand into her shirt pocket, and drew out a pokeball, flinging it full force at the oncoming Rhydon.

"ONIX, GO!" she yelled. The huge rock snake unfurled itself from the ball and placed itself between the Rhydon and Brock. The startled Rhydon stopped short and looked up at the immense rock pokemon that towered over it. Onix growled at it menacingly. Brock stared up at Onix, his eyes wide open, looking in disbelief. _Onix! She has an Onix that looks exactly like mine! No wonder she was interested in rock pokemon!_

"Onix! Bind it now!" Marian commanded. With that, Onix whipped its long tail around Rhydon and squeezed mightily. Rhydon tried to fight the pressure of the bind, but it was too powerful. Rhydon whimpered.

"Onix, stop!" Marian said. She looked at Rhydon. "Now," she said to it slowly, "I will let you go if you promise to never do that again and to leave us alone. Got it?" Rhydon nodded quietly, and Marian motioned for Onix to let it go. With that, Rhydon ran off as fast as its fat little legs could carry it. Marian patted her Onix. "Nicely done," she praised, smiling. "It looks like last week's training really paid off!" Onix made a low growl, signaling that it was content. Marian held out her pokeball. "Okay now, you can return if you want."

Brock was dumbfounded. "T-that's amazing!" he said. "Your Onix is incredible!" He felt embarrassed that he hadn't acted sooner. _Ugh, great job, Brock, _he thought, _I really made a fool of myself._

"Brock, why don't you show me your Onix?" Marian asked. "I'd every much like to see it." Brock nodded an okay and fumbled for his pokeball.

"Onix, go!" he said. His Onix exploded from the ball and stared at Marian's Onix. "Grrooowlllrrr?" it asked, wondering why in the world it was called out.

"Wow, your Onix looks just as strong as mine!" Marian said, looking up at the two rock pokemon.

"Yeah, well, I train it a bit everyday, you know, to keep it experienced." He tried to prevent his cheeks from blushing.

"Haha, so do I!" Marian replied. "I guess we think alike when it comes to pokemon. But the training's not so important to me. I love raising them more than anything else."

Brock perked up. "So do I!" he said, astonished by her answer. "My dream is to become the world's greatest pokemon breeder!"

Marian smiled, glowing. "Well then, I guess we both feel the same great love for pokemon," she beamed.

Brock flushed a bright fuschia pink. "Hehehehe, yeah I guess we do!"

They both recalled their Onixes, and looked at each other for a moment. Brock pinched himself. It hurt. A lot.

"Owch!" he said, rubbing his pinched arm. _I'm not dreaming this,_ he thought, _so this can't be my imagination… but this is just too good to be true!_

"Are you alright?" Marian asked, putting her hand on Brock's pinched arm. "Did you get hurt?"

The mere touch of her made him explode in a bright red glow. He almost passed out. Instead, he managed to say, "heheh.. hehehe… I-I'm just f-fine!"

"Good," she said, relieved. "Now that the excitement's all over, why don't we go back to my house? I'll fix us some lunch!"

"T-that'd be great!" Brock sputtered. As he walked back with her, he looked up at the clear sky. He couldn't help making a crazily large grin at the whole situation. _I'm in heaven!_ he thought. Then, suddenly, he heard muffled noises, the voices of two people calling his name in the distance, and yet they sounded as if they were right next to him… _Brock… Brock… _He frantically looked around, but saw nothing. Marian was again unfazed by the ghostly sound, so after a moment, he couldn't figure out if he had really heard it, or if it had been his odd imagination. Shrugging, he decided to continue following Marian to her house.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Again, this story is not written or owned by me. All property, intellectual or otherwise, belongs to their respective owners.**

**Chapter Five**

For the next several days, Brock spent time talking with Marian and walking through the forest, picking berries and chatting about pokemon. He cherished each day that passed by, but when the evening came, he felt a sense of dread that could not be lessened, not even with Marian around. He had been having the same nightmare for the past several days, and each time, it was worse than the one before it.

Nighttime came, and the chirping of the caterpie could be heard in the far distance. Brock took off his heavy green vest and lay it on the chair next to the small bed. He looked over at the window at the calm evening scenery, and for a moment, he closed his eyes and took in all the heaven around him. _I still can't believe a place like this exists,_ he thought to himself. _It's almost like a dream…_ As Brock finished that thought, Marian popped in quickly, surprising him.

"Oops! Sorry about that," she chimed, " I just came to bring you a softer pillow…" Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, he wasn't sure why. She blushed, and he soon figured it out. He looked down, and realized he had taken off his vest and was only wearing his skimpy orange undershirt to cover his upper body. Being a gym leader for many years had kept him, well, physically fit, to say the least. Turning cherry-red, he yanked off a sheet from the bed and covered his chest with it. _Oops! How embarrassing! … but, she __**did**__ blush… _His mind almost trailed off too, but he snapped out of it quickly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't burst in like that," she said, smiling, "here's a pillow for you." She deposited the pillow on the mattress, and then scurried to the door. Before she left, she turned and smiled slowly.

"Pleasant dreams, Brock. I'll see you tomorrow!" She winked and laughed softly and she silently closed the door. He could hear her footsteps move down the hall to her own room, and when he heard her door shut, he collapsed onto his bed. _Haaaah… _His mouth was wide open in a gaping, stupid grin, and as he was sprawled out on the bed, he looked up at the ceiling. He glanced at his shirt again. _Hehehe… hmm, maybe I should wear this shirt more often…_

He began dreading his dreams. This dream was starting, like all the others had before it, in a dark, pitch-black space, cold, and smelling of that horrid, artificial, almost Lysol-like smell. He tried running, but everywhere was the same- a never-ending black landscape. The voices began coming to him, louder this time, of two people, trying to get through to him. The girl's voice was racked with sobs, the boy's voice harsh with anguish. In this mind, he could feel their pain, their extreme grief, and it made him feel as they did. He knew what would come next, and that was the part he feared the most.

"NO!" Brock yelled, "Stop this! I don't want to feel this way! I just want a normal life! Why do you keep making me feel their sadness, their emotions? Stop it!"

He looked up at the black sky for an answer, but none came. _Why, why this same thing over and over?_ Before he could finish that thought, the jolt of pain came through his head. A searing blast ran through his mind made him yell out in agony.

"AUGH!" He shouted. He held his head, but the throbbing continued, and he knew he would not be able to stand it much longer. _I have to… I have to… think… concentrate… _He knew that the only way he had gotten out of the dreams before was to think of one thing, and one thing only. With the pain coursing through his head, fell to his kness and desperately tried to clear his mind and think of the only person who he wanted to be with, the only one who could save him… Marian. He thought of the time they had spent together, how kind she had been to him… and how much he liked her… With that thought, the pain subsided, and he instantly felt lightheaded, and his vision blurred. He fell slowly to the ground, and fell unconscious.

When he uneasily awoke, the soft sun's rays stroked his head, and he opened his eyes slowly.

He sat up and looked around. _What is it about that dream? _he thought._ Why do I keep getting it every night? _He looked over at the small table near the corner of the room by the door. A vase of newly-cut, fresh, sweet-smelling flowers were there, probably placed there for him by Marian before he even woke up. When he thought about that, he blushed slightly, but then a new thought drifted into his head. _Why does thinking about Marian save me from that horrible nightmare? What is it about her? Is there more to her than what I see?_ He decided that perhaps now was the time to find out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Again, this story is not written or owned by me. All property, intellectual or otherwise, belongs to their respective owners.**

**Chapter Six**

Brock spent a while standing in front of the window, gazing at the quiet, clear morning. He could see a small group of Caterpie rustling underneath a small bush, and a swarm of Beedrills humming softly as they collected nectar from the large trumpet-shaped flowers that bloomed in abundance near the flower box on the window frame. He leaned his forehead against the window, and for a moment, he almost dozed off again, but then quickly shook his head and stood up straight.

Then, turning around, he walked over to the sink in the bathroom and flipped on the faucet. As he let the cold water flow through his weary hands, he looked in the mirror at the face staring back at him: a tired, glum-looking image with a wrinkled shirt and frazzled, wild hair. Sometimes, he hated his hair. It was so unkempt-looking and crazy, and it had been more than once that someone had inquired as to whether or not he had accidentally placed his fingers in an electrical socket to get it that way. Taking a damp set of fingers from the water, he ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

_I wonder why my life is destined to be like this_, he wondered to himself. _I mean, my looks probably scare girls away, I'm obviously too worked up when I meet ladies, and I haven't even come one step closer to my dream of being a pokemon breeder._

He frowned at his image. _It seems like I was dealt the wrong cards._ But then, his face lifted. _But Marian… she's so different than anyone I've ever met before… I mean, she's kind, she's funny, and she actually laughs and listens at what I say…_

Brock looked down at the clear water that continually poured out of the faucet. _I can't explain it, but I just know that something's different about this place… and her_, he thought. _Even this water… it's so unnaturally clear, like liquid crystal that falls right through my hand… _He turned to look at the window in his room. _And the forest is so perfect, as if it was painted or created from some storybook. I… I just don't get it._

As he was trying to reason out that last thought, Marian's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Brock! Are you awake yet?" she called out softly.

"Yeah, I'm just washing up!" he replied.

"Ok! When you're done, come on in here! I've got a special breakfast ready and waiting for you!" The aroma of many mixed smells wafted over to the bathroom, and Brock poked his head out towards the direction of the kitchen. _And she can __**cook**__, too!_

Brock hurriedly scooped up a handful of icy water, splashed it on his face, and rushed over to his backpack in his room where he slipped on a fresh, newly-pressed orange shirt. As he walked out of the room and passed by the bathroom mirror, he glanced at his image and thought, _I __**really**__ need a new wardrobe…_

The empty plates after breakfast were good signs that thing had gone well. Marian was a wonderful cook, almost rivaling Brock in talent. Marian interlaced her fingers and propped her elbows against the table, happily watching Brock eat every last scrape of food from his plate.

After Brock had finished his dish of eggs, he looked up at her with a big smile and said, "thank you for such a delicious meal!"

"It was my pleasure," she replied, blushing a little. She stood up and began gathering the plates up. "I'm just glad that there's someone here to enjoy my cooking! It's so rare that I have guests here."

Brock looked up. "That must be because you live in the forest, right? Is this place hard to find?"

Marian stopped for a moment, and then turned to him and smiled. "Y-yes, you could say that," she said slowly, thinking. "Not many people… know about this area."

Brock turned and looked at the screen door from the kitchen that led outside, and noticed a small Oddish peeking in, staring at Brock in confusion. It let out a small, shrill "oddish!" and Marian turned around to look at it.

"Oh, Oddish, there you are!" she said, opening the door and letting it in. Oddish bounded up onto the table and looked at Brock with its small beady eyes. It didn't know whether Brock was a threat or not, so the little radish kept a close eye on the spiky-haired boy.

Marian giggled, "Oddish, this is my guest, Brock. He's a very nice trainer. Why don't you introduce yourself?" Realizing Brock wasn't a threat, Oddish smiled and with a high "odd-oddish!" it extended one of its leaves in a type of greeting. Brock grinned and replied by giving its leaf a small sort of handshake.

"That's wonderful! Oddish trusts you already!" Marian chimed. "Usually, he doesn't like newcomers. He's really a wild pokemon that likes to visit me from time to time." She picked up Oddish and gave him a hug. "We hang around together on sunny days like this and have fun!"

"Yeah, it is especially nice and sunny today," Brock mentioned, looking at the radiant sky. He looked over at Marian, and noticed that she had brightened, almost as if a lightbulb had burst into a glow over her head.

"That gives me a wonderful idea!" she said excitedly. "Why don't we do something fun? I was thinking, if you wouldn't mind… we could have a small dinner today, to perhaps celebrate our meeting?"

That suggestion was a bit too much for Brock to handle at once. With the end of that statement, Brock exploded in a hue of red and fell off of his chair. Oddish looked quizzically at him, and smiled, giggling at Marian. A hand grabbed the table as Brock struggled to get back up.

His adam's apple was racing up and down his throat, but he managed to push out the words "I'd l-l-love to," before gagging.

Marian beamed and replied, "That's great! We can perhaps make it a bit formal, even! How about we both dress up a little… like wearing different clothes, maybe?"

Brock looked down at his shirt and pants ensemble and nodded an embarrased "okay." Then, in a rare spark of inspiration, he jumped up and said quickly, "Let me make the dinner! You've been doing so much for me, that I've got to do something to return your kindness!" He bowed low and said "I'll make a dinner you'll be truly proud of!"

Marian looked at him quietly and her eyes grew soft and her smile grew wider. "Brock," she said, "I'd be honored if you would. Let's meet up for the dinner at 5 o'clock… ok?" With that, Brock nodded vigorously, and then dashed off happily to begin gathering ingredients for his masterpiece dish.

Oddish began cheering quietly, sensing that something exciting would be happening very soon.

Brock ran into his room and flung open his backpack. He began tossing out objects left and right. A pokeball flew here, a pair of socks flew there, until he finally reached the bottom of the inside of his pack.

_I need a new look for tonight. It's gotta be the only outfit I haven't worn since… since I left Pewter City. It's gotta still be here_, he thought frantically.

"It's still here!" he cried out in joy. A small zipped package lay by itself within the backpack, and he took it out and sat on the bed to open it. As he unzipped it, his eyes glowed with excitement.

"With this outfit, maybe I'll really impress Marian for once!" he said to himself, smiling uncontrollably. He grabbed the clothes and made a dash for the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and made a face at himself.

_I'm not going to feel sorry for myself tonight_, he thought. _For once, maybe I'll have a perfect evening, the kind that I've always read and heard about in those silly teen magazines!_ He began grinning that wide, goofy grin, when he noticed something. He saw the bandage that stood out on his forehead and frowned. _I can't wear this… better take it off._ With a quick motion, he yanked off the bandage and a small twinge of pain swirled through his brain. _I can't be bothered with that,_ he thought, _I have a dinner to prepare!_ With that, he closed the door and prepared to don his special suit.

The morning passed unusually quickly that day, and Marian lay in the shade of a tree nearby the house. Oddish was sitting next to her, talking happily to her in its little voice. The shadows of the tree's leaves danced across her carefully stitched red dress- a dress that she wore only for special occasions. She knew that this was a **very** special occasion, so she had made sure to clean and press her outfit until it shone in its radiant beauty. The dress itself was made of a very rare and soft fabric, almost liquid to the touch, but as firm as any cloth.

She smiled quietly as she wondered what the evening would bring. She had seen Brock scampering to and fro, gathering a little here and a little there, but about an hour ago, he had disappeared.

Deciding that perhaps she should snoop around and see what he was up to, she slowly got up and began heading for the front door, when a quiet voice piped up from behind a group of trees.

"You sure look lovely in the sunset," the voice said, slowly.

Marian turned around, and saw Brock step out from behind the tall evergreens. He was dressed in a pair of blue slacks that were rugged-looking, yet comfortable and formal in their own way. Surprised, Marian looked at his shirt and realized that it wasn't the same old orange shirt that he seemed so attached to. Instead, he wore a soft-looking blue silk shirt, its shiny ripples moving silently as the wind blew through them. With the sunset framing him in the back, he looked like a much more elegant version of himself, and Marian automatically blushed as he presented her with a bouquet of fresh flowers from the forest.

"These are for you," he said, reddening just a bit. She took them and murmured a quiet "thank you." She then looked at his forehead and noticed that something was missing.

"Your bandage," she replied, reaching to touch his head. "Why did you take it off? Don't you still need it?"

He shrugged, grinning. "I'm fine now," he said, nonchalantly. "Besides, it didn't go with my outfit. Now, let's go have some dinner!"

Marian put out her hand, and Brock nervously took it, escorting her to their upcoming dinner date. Oddish, curious as it was, decided to sneak after them and see for himself what was going to happen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Again, this story is not written or owned by me. All property, intellectual or otherwise, belongs to their respective owners.**

**Chapter Seven**

The sunset's auburn glow was quite magical in the late afternoon, and as the large globe of red oozed slowly into the horizon, waves of soft oranges and purples cascaded against the calm and clear sky overhead. The sun-kissed silhouettes of two people and one small creature not far behind moved quietly against the darkened scenery.

Brock led Marian gently to an area not far from the patio of the small house. As he walked, he couldn't help but look at her soft dark curls of hair that soaked up the crimson sun's rays and reflected a beautiful, almost heavenly glow. He took a deep breath in and smelled her perfume, a small mix of forest flowers and plumage that smelled like the sweetest scent he had ever experienced. The whole moment was so wonderful for him that he almost fell down as he walked with her, but her gentle grip on his hand somehow steadied him, and they contiuned to move toward the setting that he had prepared.

"It was really very nice of you to do all this for me, Brock" Marian said softly. She turned and looked upwards at him as they stepped along. Her smile brightened her entire face, and he made a goofy grin and was unable to say anything more than "i-it was nothing… nothing at all."

As they turned the corner of the house, Marian's eyes widened, and she smiled as she looked at what Brock had made. The patio was covered with flower petals that trembled softly in the early evening breeze, and small lines of twine that Brock has stored in his pack were strung along the trees and connected to the house in a subtle zig-zag pattern. Entwined onto each line were tulips and trumpet flowers, bright and beautiful bulbs of color, pointing downwards to the small table that was elegantly set, with a rose in one of the glasses.

"It's so… beautiful, Brock," Marian said, eyes slighlty watery. "No one has ever done such a nice thing for me before in my entire life."

Brock smiled and motioned for her to sit in the seat that had the delicate rose placed in the glass. He pulled out the chair for her, and as she sat down, he thought aloud, "I can't believe that. Such a radiant lady should always be showered with flowers." He blushed as he said the last sentence, but she knew that he honestly meant it.

He took a seat across from her, and looked quickly at the covered dish in front of them. His hand trembled as he reached for the handle of the lid of the dish.

"I made a special dish for you," he said slowly. "It's something I haven't made for a long… long time." He raised the lid and before Marian's eyes was a heavenly smelling chicken that was sauteéd in a honey and soy marinade. The large dish was garnished with tropical flowers, and the steam that rose from the meal wafted into a soft mist above their heads. Marian looked at Brock, speechless.

"Brock, it looks so… wonderful," she said, her brown eyes shimmering in the failing sunlight. "Wherever did you learn to make such a thing?"

Brock paused for a moment, his eyes faltering, and then staring firmly at her. "I had only made this dish for a very special woman, a very long time ago. She always loved it, and I always loved cooking it for her." At that moment, his eyes glistened with water, but then they reverted to their natural state.

"A special woman?" Marian repeated slowly. "Was she a first love?"

Brock shook his head, smiling slowly. "No, I had cooked this dish… for my mother. Before she had passed away." He noticed Marian's face fall at that word, and he quickly assured her, "no, don't feel bad. I **like** preparing this dish… for those who are special to me… I never had a 'first love,' not before, anyway."

Sensing that he was delving too deeply into himself, Brock cleared his throat and took out a pair of serving utensils and placed a serving of the chicken and a small trumpted flower onto Marian's plate before serving himself.

As they ate, Marian could taste something special about the meal. It was more than just a well prepared dish. It was something more. She could taste all of his emotion and all of his soul that had gone into making that chicken just right for her. She imagined that he had probably been thinking of his mother when he had made it, but that he had been thinking of her as well. She blushed at the thought, and Brock caught her gaze as she did.

"You're an amazing cook," she replied, beaming. "I've never tasted something that someone has put so much spirit into making. It's… unexplainable how good this is."

Brock smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot to me… When I cook, usually the best dishes seem to make themselves. All I have to do is be motivated enough to make them the best that I can. It wasn't very difficult this time to find the motivation I needed." His face grew red, but his gaze remained on her.

Meanwhile, mischievious Oddish was underneath the table, listening to the entire conversation! It was getting very excited, delighted that Marian had finally found someone that liked her as much as she liked them. Oddish sensed something very special about Brock and Marian's bond, and it began hopping up and down, gleeful and happy for both people. Unfortunately, it was a little **too** excited. As it landed from an unstable hop of glee, it bumped its head roughly into Brock's knee. Brock almost jumped straight up, but managed to only cause a spastic movement. He looked over at Marian, who was looking at her food at the moment, and thought that it had been **her** kicking him in the knee. The thought of such a flirtatious move caused his face to break out into a fuschia red hue, and he felt very light-headed.

Oddish, reliazing a bit too late of what he had done, tried backing away from Brock's leg, only to bump into Marian's leg! Marian, who didn't realize that a little radish was underneath the table accidentally causing trouble, looked over at the red faced Brock and thought to herself, _did he do that? I-Is he flirting with me? What should I do?_ Marian also proceeded to turn red, and the two looked at each other uncertainly.

For a moment, they moved closer, aware that they were both blushing uncontrollably at each other. They looked deep into each other's eyes. Brock saw Marian's deep brown pools of dark amber looking back at him, and Marian saw his small, yet kind, brown eyes looking at her with a glow she had not noticed before.

Oddish, fearful of what he had done, could not see what was going on above him, being undeneath the table the whole time. It thought that something bad had happened, so it decided to take action!

Just as Brock and Marian were moving their heads closer to one another, feeling an inevitable action fast approaching…

"ODDISH!" Oddish yelled, hopping onto the table quickly. The two stopped, and looked at Oddish quizzically. They then looked back at each other and then back at the pokemon. Their eyes widened and they exclaimed at the same time-

"It was Oddish that kicked you?" They glanced at each other, embarrassed. Oddish's face went red as it realized that it had spoiled something important. Brock, snapping out of his love-struck craziness, shook his head quickly and said in a very fast tone, "w-well, I thought it was too weird to be true!" he said, laughing fakely. Marian giggled, and she looked up, noticing that the darkness had come, and the light in the sky was fading fast. Brock glanced upwards and saw the night time approaching as well.

He sighed. "Well, I guess that's the end of it, then." He put the plates together and stacked them up neatly. He looked again at Marian. "Thank you for letting me do that," he said, grinning.

"No, Brock, thank **you**. This has been the most wonderful evening of my life! I'll never forget it." She smiled, and she got up from her chair. As Brock put away the dishes, she made a small tsk-tsk movement with her finger at Oddish, but she laughed a little. When Brock came back, he looked tired from the work of preparing the entire evening. Marian walked up to him and, without warning, gave him a small peck on the cheek. Hi face flew into a red-orange craze, and he wobbled on his feet for a moment before stopping and pinching himself. But it wasn't a dream, because it still hurt.

"That's my small thank-you to you Brock," she said, smiling, "for a night I'll never forget." She picked up Oddish and began walking slowly towards her room for the night. Before leaving she turned back and gazed at Brock, who grinned stupidly in response.

"Good night, Brock," she said softly.

Once she was gone, he jumped up and yelled out "YES!" He had done it! He knew he had finally found that special someone! He calmed down a bit and decided that the faster he went to bed, perhaps the faster he would dream of her. He was sure that this date would stop his nightmare, and he was so happy that he wanted to run and scream out her name into the night. But instead, he kept his cool and began walking to his own room.

Just then, an aching pain ripped through his temples and went to the part of his head where he had taken off the bandage. The pain was sharp, and it was a horrifying, familiar pain. _No! No, this can't be! _He thought frantically. _This only happens during the nightmare! It's not supposed to happen in real life! NO!_ He grabbed his head, and the pain dragged him to his knees. Gasping, he fought it desperately, and little by little, the sharp agony subsided. After it had gone, he felt weak, but he forced himself to stand up, and walk to his bed. He was visibly shaken, and he held the side of his head in fear that it would happen again. _Thank god Marian hadn't seen that,_ he thought to himself._ I wouldn't want to worry her about me… I-I just need some rest, that's all… yes… rest…_

But Brock **wasn't** alone. Behind the wall of the house, Marian had seen the whole thing.

She held Oddish in her arms, and her kind eyes grew sad and afraid for Brock. That scene was very familiar to her as well.

_No, not again_, she thought. _I thought he would be different, but he can't escape it... no one can..._She heard Oddish moan softly in agreement, and she looked on as she watched Brock stumble painfully to his room. She wanted to try and help him, but there was nothing she could do. And she knew it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Again, this story is not written or owned by me. All property, intellectual or otherwise, belongs to their respective owners.**

**Chapter Eight**

In the morning, Brock was sitting in the kitchen, thinking pensively to himself. The head pains were growing both in number, and in magnitude.

_I wonder how much more of it I can take?_ he thought worriedly to himself.

Marian appeared in the doorway and noticed his sad expression. She tried to pipe her voice up, even though she knew what he was thinking.

"Good morning, Brock! You're sure up early!" she said, smiling.

"U-uh, good morning, Marian," he replied, distracted from his thoughts. He looked up and smiled in response. "Sleep well, I hope?"

"Yes, and you?" she asked.

"…F-fine," he said, shortly. He cleared his throat and regained his happy composure. "Would you like to go out for a walk again today?"

Marian approached him and winked. "That sounds like a lot of fun!" she said. "I'll make a picnic lunch! I'll just get some ingredients, and we'll be all set!" She went to open a cabinet next to her, and a small camera fell out as she opened it.

"Oh!" she giggled, "so **that's** where I left it!"

Brock immediately saw a window of opportunity. "Hey, why don't we take a picture?" he grinned.

"That's a good idea," she replied, "but who'll **take** the picture?"

Just then, Oddish came bounding into the room with a loud "Oddish!"

"Oddish," Marian fakely scolded, "were you listening to our conversation?"

Oddish covered its face with a leaf, but Marian and Brock laughed. Marian handed the camera to Oddish, who maneuvered it so that its large petals held the camera firmly. Marian moved over to Brock, and he blushed profusely.

"Ok, Oddish!" Marian called out. Marian took Brock's hand in the sort of pose you'd see in a prom picture. Brock looked down at Marian, and she looked up at him, gazing prettily at his blushing expression. She tightened her grip around him, turning the pose into more of a hug. Brock looked surprised, but instead embraced her in the same way, entranced by her eyes as they held each other closely, wrapped up in a moment of unexpected happiness. Oddish snapped the shot, and smiled, pleased with its picture-taking talent.

When it was over, Brock stared at Marian, and they spent a short while simply looking into each other's eyes. They leaned closer to one another, about to kiss when…

A sharp jolt raced through Brock's head. A huge surge of pain throbbed in his brain, and he nearly fell over, but was supported by Marian, who held him up. He gasped for air as he struggled to regain control.

"Brock?! Are you all right?" Marian yelled out, alarmed. He gripped his head with his hands, but knew he was losing the struggle. He forced himself to open his eyes long enough to look at Marian.

"M-marian... " he murmured, and the passed out.

"No... Brock? Brock?!" she said, shaking him. Frantically, she took his upper body and motioned for Oddish to pick up his lower body as they carried him to his room.

Brock found himself neither in a dark area, nor in his mind. It was like somewhere in between, where his waking thoughts met with his past memories. He felt old experiences rush up to him, the way they do when you open up an old photo album.

For some odd reason, he was instantly reminded of his childhood. In the haze of his mind's images, Brock could see the memories of his past resurface. He remembered when he was young, before his siblings were born, and his parents were still together. They would take him to the park regularly, and as he played in the sand box, they would sit on the bench nearby, gazing at the red hues of the fading sun, his father holding his mother close, gazing at each other silently, and holding each other's hands. He would look at their silhouette, like two lovebirds, inseparable and very affectionate for each other.

His mind flashed forward to many years later, in his early teens, when his birthday had come up. Everyone gathered gleefully around the cake, and his mother presented him with a handmade gift. He always loved her gifts. As he opened it, his eyes widened in joy. It was a beautifully stitched green vest, lightly padded on the inside, and complete with several sets of pockets to store his pokeballs and various other things. Right then and there, she knew he had fallen in love with her present, and as he hugged her for it, he felt like nothing in the world could take away his happiness.

Then his mind solemnly remembered those tough years later on, near when his mother had died. His father was gone, off becoming a pokemon trainer, and Brock did his best to help his mother keep their home from falling apart. He tried to burden himself with all of the work, so that his mother could rest, but she insisted on helping him. He remembered her kind smile as she watched him, her hard-working son, cleaning and taking care of his siblings. The pride in her for her child made her eyes glow softly, and she knew that he loved her very much.

But she would not look that way forever. In the months that followed, she had fallen ill with some sickness that Brock had never seen before. He put her to bed and tried to care for her, but as each week passed, her face grew more and more pale.

Brock grew afraid, and as he entered her room each day to bring her breakfast and check her temperature, he was deathly fearful that he would find her lifeless body laying on the bed, devoid of all life and spirit. He began panicking, and his eyes had grown smaller and sad, from the weariness and struggle he had been going through, battling with himself to stay strong in the situation. _My family... needs me_, he thought. _My... mother needs me... I can't let her down._ She would look at him warmly, no matter how ill her face appeared, and he would sit and talk with her about what he had done that day, and what was going on outside. Her smile kept him going, and assured him that things would work out.

But then one day, they didn't. He had come into her room, and it was deathly silent. He dropped the tray of food and rushed over to her bed. He shook in terror and crouched beside her. His mother managed to barely turn her head and look at him, a beautiful, sad smile that looked deep within him. Brock felt his eyes brim with tears as he grabbed her hands.

"Mom, Mom... are you ok?" he asked, his eyes wide with fear.

"B-Brock," she whispered, "I've always loved you, son. No mother could be prouder. But... I can't be with you... forever." Her eyes gave off a faint twinkle, like a glint at the end of a dark tunnel. "I-I don't think I'm going to be able to make those riceballs with you... a-anymore," she managed to say quietly.

"Please, Mom, don't say that," Brock pleaded, "you'll be fine... please, don't talk like that..." Her hand reached over to his cheek that was wet from crying.

"You're a v-very special boy, Brock," she said, coughing, "someday, you'll find someone who knows that…" She stroked his hair gently, the way she used to when he was young. He closed his eyes and felt it, as he remembered how things had once been, when life wasn't so... complicated. Then, after a short while, the stroking stopped. He opened his eyes, and saw that his mother had closed her eyes, her hand had dropped to her side, and all was quiet. His red eyes shot open, and he shook his mother.

"Mom?! ... **MOM**?! ... Wake up! Wake up, damn it, WAKE UP! **PLEASE**!" he yelled, water rushing from his eyes. "Don't do this… no... don't **do** this to me... please, GOD, **NOOO**! **WAKE UP**! **MOM!**" Weary from shaking her and yelling, he collapsed into her arms, sobbing violently, his chest heaving. He fell to the floor, weeping uncontrollably, grief staining his face and his pained eyebrows, gagging on his flood of teardrops. His small siblings entered the room softly. They looked at their lifeless mother, and then at the young man who was racked with sobs. They ran to him, hugging him tightly, and their chorus of tears and cries filled the hollow room.

_My... mother_, he thought to himself. _Why did she die?_ He never knew. He felt alone in the nothingness, in his thoughts. After his mother's death, he had grown cold to the outside world, using his gym battles to release his fury at an unjust world, and more importantly, to his father for having abandoned them when his mother had needed him the most. He loved his brothers and sisters dearly, and strived to care for them as well as his mother had before. But as he thought back to that moment, a twinge of grief struck his stomach. To this day, he still blamed himself for his mother's death.

_If I had only been able to help her_, he thought. _I was there, and I couldn't do __**anything**__, not __**anything**__! It's my fault she died... my fault... all... my fault..._

As he thought this, he felt a soft hand stroke his hair, and it reminded him of his mother's soft touch. It was gentle, and it helped to sooth his savage grief.

"It's not your fault," an echoed voice said softly. "You couldn't stop the illness. No one could... Don't blame yourself. Your mother didn't."

As he reached out his senses, he felt the hand stroking his hair **wasn't** a dream. He struggled to regain consciousness, and his eyes fluttered open. A blurry image gazed down at him, and as his eyes focused, he could see Marian looking down at him sadly.

"M-marian…" he murmured. "H-how did you know what I was dreaming about?" His head still throbbed slightly from the earlier attack.

Her hand caressed his hair delicately, as her face tried to smile warmly at him, masking her somber feelings.

She drew up her breath and quietly replied, "I think it's time that I told you the truth."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Again, this story is not written or owned by me. All property, intellectual or otherwise, belongs to their respective owners.**

**Chapter Nine**

Brock sat up uneasily in the bed, dizzy, as Marian helped him up slowly. Her face was solemn, her eyes probing his face with concern. He looked at her and tried to focus his eyes.

"M-marian," he asked, "what's going on?" He felt his head which was slightly throbbing. "He looked back at her. "How could you have know about that…?"

Marian stared at him for a while, observing his confused expression, his fatigued eyes searching her for an answer, the beads of sweat falling from his forehead. She sighed out sadly in one breath and began slowly.

"Brock… these past days have been wonderful for me. I've never been so happy in all my life, and I have you to thank for it." She put her hand on his. "But I can't keep it from you anymore. I… I just didn't want to tell you… I didn't want to ruin your happiness."

His eyes softened. "You can tell me anything, Marian. I would never be angry at you."

Her lip quivered slightly at the reply. "Brock, remember how you had told me that this all seemed so wonderful, so perfect?" Brock nodded. Marian paused carefully, trying to compose herself. "Well… It's because… it isn't your world."

Brock froze. He couldn't believe her. He didn't **want** to believe her. "You're… you're **joking**, yeah, that's it…"

She shook her head. "Brock… you're… **dreaming**."

Time stopped. He gazed at the frozen world around him. He saw the thatched walls, the birds outside, the bed sheets… and Marian. _How_, he thought, _how could this be a dream?! _His heart ached. _No, it can't… it __**can't**__!_ He pieced it together slowly. _The perfect scenery, the bright weather… Marian. No, Marian can't be a dream… she just __**can't**__ be!_

Brock felt his head reel in his sudden misery, his brow knit with utter confusion and desolation.

"Why…" he whispered, "why did it have to be a dream? When I had found someone… finally **found** someone who…"

"Brock." Marian's voice softly nudged him out of his troubled thoughts. Her hand touched his face, and he turned to look at her, his face etched with hurt. "There is something that few people understand about dreams."

"Yeah?" he said raggedly, his throat hoarse, "and what would that be?"

Her soft brown eyes looked at him, sympathetic and kind. "The universe isn't as simple as it seems. You live on your own world, but that world is in its own dimension, its own plane of existence." She looked at the sky and back at Brock. "This world here may be a "dream" to you, but it is quite real."

"But h-how can that be?" he asked, flustered.

"The universe has many parallel dimensions, each one overlapping the other. Normally, we would never have met, because we live in our own dimensions, but yours is different.

"For you, when you sleep, your spiritual mind travels out from its physical body to other dimensions. Sometimes these dimensions make sense, because they are very similar to yours, and, other times, they are odd and have unusual sights and sounds, but either way, it spends time in those dimensions. The numbers of dimensions in this universe are infinite, and no one ever travels to the same one twice. You may think it is only a 'dream' when you sleep, but it is all really happening."

"But… how did you know about... my past?" Brock asked.

"I could read your thoughts," she answered slowly. "Perhaps people cannot do that in your dimension. I sensed that might be the case, so I didn't speak up about it." Her grip on his hand tightened gently. "But, I **did** see that you were a good person, that you cared about people you knew, how you put others' happiness before your own… and how you were… lonely." She smiled. "In my home, I too was very lonely, so I could understand your mind's frustration. Others travel here sometimes, but they usually leave too quickly, before I ever get a chance to get to know them. But you… you were different. I knew that from the moment I saw you."

Brock couldn't help but blush at that comment. "But why would they leave so fast?" he asked.

"They left because it was their time to go," she replied simply. "People came here in different situations. Sometimes, they only came for a few hours, because they were sleeping throughout the night. And other times… they came because they…" She couldn't finish her sentence.

Brock's eyes widened in realization. "Because they got… **hurt**… didn't they."

She nodded slowly. "Dreams aren't meant to go on forever, Brock," she said, her voice small. "Your mind has a fail-safe device… it protects you from being in a dream too long."

"I… I don't understand," Brock answered, his eyes searching her face for the true meaning of her words.

"Haven't you ever wondered why you wake up from dreams when you do? Like when you dream you're falling, but you never really hit the ground? Well… your spiritual mind brings you back **before** anything bad happens to you, because if you fell for real, you would… bekilled."

"But… I've been having dreams every night," Brock tried to offer lamely. "How could I be dreaming if I'm **having** dreams?"

Marian looked at him, noticing his lightly frenzied eyes trying to rationalize a reason for why it was all real. "Brock," she said gently, knowing what he was going to say, "describe these dreams to me."

"Well, I always dream that I am in a very dark place… I can't see anything, but I can hear muffled crying and I can smell things, things that are very sterilized."

"Brock, those aren't dreams," she replied quietly. "That means that your mind is bringing you back to your body. Those things that you can hear and smell are all real." She paused. "The cries… are probably your friends… they must be terribly worried about you." She saw his face fall as he remembered Ash and Misty. "And it's dark because that's your mind... empty of thoughts because you were dreaming." She looked at him more urgently. "Brock, this means that you are preventing your spirit from going back into your body. By preventing yourself from opening your eyes and going back, you're being tossed back and forth between the two planes." Her eyebrows started to dip in worry. "That's a very dangerous thing to do. You **must** let your spiritual mind lead you back… to your own reality."

And," Brock paused slowly, "if you didn't **want** to go back…?"

"Your mind would keep fighting to bring you back… and it would fight so hard to return you to your physical body that you would… eventually…" She stopped, her voice wavering. She looked down.

"… **die**," he finished. He frowned to himself in despair. "So, that's what will happen to me, right?" He brought his hand to her chin and rose her head gently. He looked at her for a long time, and his eyes became clear. "I… I don't care."

She gasped, surprised. "Do you know what you're saying?" she asked, unbelieving.

He nodded slowly. "If I can be with you, no matter how short my time may be… then that's the only place I want to be."

Unable to hold it in any longer, she broke down into tears. "You can't," she pleaded, you just can't…"

"Why not?" he asked, his voice calm, but his eyes giving away his uneasy fear of his own decision.

"Oh, god, why do you have to be so stubborn about this?" She couldn't help but smile. "Brock, that you would be willing to sacrifice your life to be with me… I can't express how amazed that makes me… but I don't want you to die, not for me."

She embraced him, and he held her tenderly, but her body was racked with sobs, and he felt his eyes sting with his own fought-back tears. He closed his eyes, and cursed.

"I… I only wanted to be happy," he said, almost inaudibly. His face was in her flowing hair, muffling his desperate words. "Why can't anything in my life turn out right?" Suddenly, a searing, sharp pain struck his head. He nearly fell over in his bed, doubling over with discomfort. Marian sat up immediately.

"Brock…?" She checked his head fearfully.

"I'm… I'm ok," he answered shortly. He laughed bitterly. "It's odd how my brain wants me… to go back to a reality that's so lonely for me, even though it knows that I'd be happier right here."

"But you're not lonely," Marian soothed, "you have your friends who care about you very much. They're so very worried about you, Brock."

He looked up at her gentle face. "Marian… what do you think… I should do?"

She gazed at him for a moment, and then raised both her hands and tenderly held his face. She shut her eyelids and her expression went blank. After a short while, a small smile arose on her lips, and she looked at him again.

"Brock," she started, "I know, better than anyone else, how lonely you can be, but you have to trust me on this. You have so many friends who care about your wellbeing… and… someday, you will meet someone who will care for you… **more** than a friend."

"How do you… how do you know?" he asked, confused.

"I can see it," she said, releasing her hands, "I can see your future… well, your possible future, at least." Her smile increased slightly, and her voice became more confident. "Yes, you **will** find someone," she paused, surprised, "someone who loves you… even more than I do."

Brock couldn't respond. He felt as if his vocal chords were malfunctioning. _Was she just saying that, or could she really see the future?_ He realized from this that he didn't know what Marian was really capable of. _I… I __**will**__ believe in her_, he thought. _I trust her._ His headache was starting to slowly creep up on him again, and as he was gazing at Marian, he grew nervous as his vision began to double. _It's getting worse… I don't know if I'll last through the next one…_

She knew it too. "Brock," she said gently, "you trust me, right?" He nodded. "Well… I think it's time for you…" she choked out the last words, "to… go back."

Even though he understood, the words felt harsh to him just the same.

He could barely find his voice to speak. _What can I possibly say?_ He sensed his time growing rapidly short. _Will I ever see you again?_

"Marian… I… I'll miss you," he said at last, disappointed at how he couldn't think of anything better to say. "Will I… ever see you again?"

She drew up her breath, and changed her expression into a happier one, despite what she felt. "No Brock, you won't. I won't lie to you. The odds of meeting again are… at least a million to one."

He managed to smile. "I never was very lucky," he joked half-heartedly. They looked at each other for what seemed to be eternity. Her saw her eyes shimmering against the early morning sunlight. _How nice it would have been to have seen another sunrise here_, he thought.

He touched her cheek delicately, and his face began to slowly flush red. "Marian… I… I l-lo-love-" he stammered furiously, trying to spit out the words desperately without success. Marian laughed softly and put her hand through his dark hair slowly. "I know, Brock," she whispered, "and I love you, too."

"No matter what happens, Marian, I'll… I'll **never** forget you…"

She moved closer to him in that moment, her auburn eyes gazing at him carefully, as if trying to memorize his face, retain whatever image she could of him. After a long while, she moved forward slowly, and he saw her eyes glaze over with water. She kept her smile large, though he knew her heart was breaking.

"Yes," she said, softly shaking her head, "You **will**." She reached for him, and they embraced one last time in a long kiss. It seemed to transcend time— the birds outside flew by at a fraction of their normal speed, the morning breeze slowed, and for that one brief, shining moment, Brock knew what he would miss, and what he had longed for so badly all his life. He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the kiss, and something wet fell from his cheek. His mind became dimmer, yet he still continued, unwilling to give in to the approaching darkness. As seconds passed, he felt light-headed, and his struggling became more and more difficult, but he didn't want to give up. Then, a soft, warm feeling washed over him, urging him gently to release his exertion, and allowing him to fade away.

Cold. His lips felt cold. But they had just been warm before. _Why had they been warm?_ Sunlight warmed his closed eyelids, and he opened them with some difficulty. The world was fuzzy, but slowly came into focus. He was in a large white bed near a slightly-opened clear window. He rubbed his head uneasily, and looked around at his surroundings. He was in a large white room. On the desk near him, his rumpled backpack sat, scratched up and torn in some spots. He looked curiously at his arm, and saw a small white plastic bracelet on it, with his name and information on it. He turned to look at the end of his bed and saw Ash and Misty sitting on chairs, their sleeping heads resting on the white, sterile-looking blankets. Pikachu was nestled in between them. The door leading out of the room had a small window on it, and occasionally a person briskly walked past, wearing a white hat.

Brock sat for a moment, letting it all sink in. _Where… where am I? What happened?_ His rustling awoke Pikachu, who yelled out a loud "pika!" in surprised excitement. Ash and Misty woke, rubbing their eyes, and immediately rushed over to Brock. They all gave him huge hugs, practically crushing him with their relieved happiness.

"Oh Brock," Misty said, her face shaking with delight, "you're ok! You're ok…" She nearly broke down then and there.

"We were so **worried** about you," Ash said. Pikachu joined the group hug eagerly.

"Pika, pikachu!" They looked at him, unbelieving, smiling brightly. They eventually released their tight grip on him, and brought their chairs closer to him to sit down.

"We… we thought you weren't going to make it," Misty said slowly.

"What happened to me?" Brock asked, feeling the multiple bandages on his head.

"You had fallen, and gotten really hurt," Ash answered. "We brought you to the hospital, but they had told us to expect the worst. Brock," he continued, realizing Brock didn't know the full seriousness of the accident, "you weren't responding. You were in a coma, and the doctors didn't know what was wrong…"

_Coma? I fell?_ It all seemed like it had happened years ago, but he knew that it had only been about a week since he had fallen down that ravine.

"But you're all right now, Brock, that's all that matters," Misty said, reassured.

Brock smiled, grateful that his friends had been so concerned for him, but there was an odd, nagging sensation he couldn't get rid of. Despite his uplifted friends, he felt a deep sadness that he couldn't shake. _Why do I feel so terrible?_ He tried to think back, but all he could remember was darkness. _What happened? Why can't I… remember?_ He felt empty, crushed.

"What's wrong, Brock?" Ash asked, noticing Brock's low face.

"I… I don't know," he murmured.

Misty's memory sparked to life. "Brock… we're really sorry for what we had said. It was wrong, and we shouldn't have been making fun of you." Ash nodded. "We're so sorry, Brock."

Brock looked out the window. The sun was high overhead, and its beams felt warm and soothing. He looked up, and let them cast down on his face. After a while, he faced his friends again, smiling slightly, his mind clear, finally.

"It's all right," he said. "I know you guys didn't mean it."

They smiled. Ash turned to Misty. "Let's get Brock some food," he suggested.

"Yeah!" Misty agreed. They got up and promised to be right back. Brock nodded, smiling. The two ran out of the hospital room, with Pikachu close behind.

Brock returned his gaze to the world outside. For the life of him, he couldn't remember something, something he knew was important… but as he watched the people go by outside, and the sky fill with song-filled birds and fluffy white clouds soaring ever so slowly through the air, he knew it was all right. He breathed in a very deep breath, and sighed.

Somewhere, very far away, a girl sat at a table, watching the blue sky. She made a deep sigh, but somewhere within the sigh there was a breath of contentment for all that gone on in her busy days before. She couldn't help but smile at the huge heavens above her. As she stood up to take her daily walk in the forest, she left behind a picture on her table of two people, two of a kind, together, captured forever in their moment of happiness.

**The End**

*** Author's Notes***

If anyone is curious, Here is the track listing for this chapter's "soundtrack," in order of appearance:

Anxious - Final Fantasy 7

Main Theme - Parasite Eve

Kaze no youni - Asunaro hakusho (Japanese dorama)

La La La Love Song - Long Vacation (Japanese dorama)

Well, that's the **final** end of this long story. I know there'll be a lot of mixed reactions, but this was the intended end of the story, and has been that way since I thought of the idea in the very beginning.

In terms of it being "too sad", sometimes that's the way life goes. Not every story's a fairy tale, and unfortunately for Brock, that's especially true in this case. Keep in mind however, that all of my stories are connected, so pay special attention to the importance of Marian's vision, and some other things. ^_^ As for what happens in the coming stories, _Sore wa himitsu desu! (That's a secret!)_

**GreyAncient's Notes: And that's _Two of a_ _Kind_**_**. **_**Feel free to post a review and tell me what you thought. More will be posted as I go through my cache of fan fictions so keep a look out.**


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